What People Don't See
by AwakeningAngels
Summary: People see just trees, flowers, the sky, the sea, the people, the birds, the bees – everything nature has to offer. Simple, right? There's more of chance that they don't see much beyond. That, too, is simple. You just have to use your imagination. St. Patrick's Day fic. Sugary w/additional pairings.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note**: Hey there. Here's me doing a fan fiction for St. Patrick's Day. This one is a Sugar-Rory fic (mainly in Sugar's point of view), with the other characters involved in this. That's so you guys will know. This is also my second supernatural fic (well, not really supernatural; I have it for adventure, but oh well). If anyone's wondering if I'll continue the first supernatural fic, "Nine Lives Kind of Girl", yes I will finish it. Recently, I've gotten ideas for my Samcedes fic that is up right now, along with "Teach Me How to Love" and a new fan fic that I'll publish later on; and I'll type them all when I have the free time (school work's been bumming me lately). Anyways, I hope you enjoy this one, and I'll update the others soon. I hope so…at least.

**Summary**: People see just trees, flowers, the sky, the sea, the people, the birds, the bees – everything nature has to offer. Simple, right? There's more of chance that they don't see much beyond. That, too, is simple. You just have to use your imagination.

**Featured Pairings**: Sugary (Sugar/Rory), Klaine (Kurt/Blaine), Implied!Brittana (Brittany/Santana), Rydique (Ryder/Unique), Implied!Wildehart (Kitty/Joe), Implied!Jarley (Jake/Marley)

* * *

| | _**What People Don't See**_ | |

This day is a pretty uneventful one, for I have been stuck sitting by myself in the cafeteria with this pink glitter pen and a blue composition notebook for the past five or so minutes of free period at school. I wanted to write something. Maybe draw a picture of a dancing pony or make a list of things I want for my birthday, which is about a month or two from now. I wanted a lot. Wait – lemme scratch that – I want too much. An IPad mini, of course (sometimes one tablet is never enough; and this one was smaller so I won't lose it or have it weigh me down). Maybe another pair of heels for when junior prom comes up. I could always use another perfume set.

See what I mean? I want too much. My daddy makes a lot, though. He's, like, one of the most decent money makers in today's society – and no, I did not just over-exaggerate that.

I glanced at the white IPhone I had with the purple case on it. I forgot I was listening to Nicki Minaj's _The Boys_ when I was in my train of thought for a minute. I could just randomly write my favorite lyrics of my favorite songs in different colored pens. I did that when I posted a piece of paper with all of the celebrities in the world that I liked. I had to put Channing Tatum and Robert Pattinson in big letters in the middle of the page, though, since they are both my future husbands. I can care less about what the public says about Kristen Stewart and Jenna Dewan; those guys are mine.

The song had ended, and then something quiet and tiring started to play. I couldn't tell what it was because of the people having the many conversations amongst themselves. I assumed it was either that Kelly Clarkson song, _Already Gone_, or that Adele song, _Someone Like You_. I just allowed the song to play throughout, and then went back to my blank composition notebook page. Maybe if I was in an area with not much people talking and stuff, I could get some thoughts out more. That was always the sucky part about the lunch period.

I really wanted to relax and write something in my journal. My mom told me I could write about my feelings each day, but that was what my video camera at home was for. I wanted to be creative for at least a minute. School has been taking over me like some crazy alien from one of those crappy movies. No matter what I thought of, nothing clicked. It was even harder for me to think with the people at the basketball and football table howling like wolves.

I turned to my left to take a glance at the athletic punks. They were cheering on some blonde guy in the bunch. I knew who he was, though, since we both have the same Art class. His name was Ryder Lynn. You would expect someone like him to be the head of the bunch and say some mean things about the new freshman, or ditch class like it doesn't mean a thing in the world. He's actually different. He actually cares about school work, regardless of it being boring or not. He's nice to everyone in the school, too. When the football jocks had left to slushie a junior boy, he had gone to help some brunette girl named Marley Rose with her Geometry homework, which seemed to be a pain in her ass.

There were some other jocks over there, too, but they were completely the opposite of Ryder. Jake Puckerman was one of them. Good God, he may be cute, but he's a total bean head as well. He claims to be such a badass ever since he transferred into this school. I can totally see that after learning that Noah Puckerman was his half older brother (I'm totally yawning at such sarcasm).

And then there was a blonde boy named Sam Evans. Like Jake and Ryder, he was such a cutie and totally a catch for anyone. He just says rude things to people when he's sometimes "in the moment", or whatever the heck that just meant. One time he actually had the nerve to call a poor wheelchair kid Stephen Hawking. I didn't see a resemblance between Stephen Hawking and that boy. That paraplegic boy is twelve times cuter in my personal opinion. A while later, he told a friend from a couple of my classes that he literally had Chewbacca's ass attached to his back. I'll admit that he didn't have the best hair in the world; but it was one thing unique (although a bit strange) about him, and Sam just had no right to say things about him.

There was one that sat at the end of the table by the name of Blaine Anderson. He was an okay kind of person. I mean, the popular guys usually just use him as a resource for homework and such (I don't see that as being popular, really), but yeah. He was an okay person. He probably didn't know that Sam and Jake were both using him for History and English homework. How could he, though? He always wanted to be a part of a big group that actually liked him and stuff. He even joined a group of pips at his last school. See what I mean?

I was just about to go and change the song on my IPod to something with Beyonce or Gwen Stefani when I heard Jake laughing at some boy that started to walk towards them. I turned my head again at that point, and I could see a boy who wore all green like he was supposed to be a human shrub. Well, actually, his shirt reminded me of those cupcakes with the really soft frosting, but that's not the point.

"Hey there, Irish." Everyone in the school has been calling him Irish since he first came, which is insane. No one would even defend the poor little guy – not even Brittany S. Pierce, one of the girls on the Cheerios that offered to let the foreign exchange student stay at her house.

The foreign exchange student looked at the many jocks sitting at the table before him. Some exchanged giggles when they looked at how the boy was dressed, and the food he had on his tray: a whole garden salad with French dressing, some celery, and some tortilla chips with guacamole in a small, plastic container. Okay, at that point, I just thought he was overdoing the green a bit. At least he ate healthy, though.

"Hello there, lads," he spoke in his best, thick Irish accent. He sounded older than he looked, which was pretty unusual to my ears. "Mind if I join you?" He had the most charming smile on his face. It's like he brushed his teeth ten times a day with Crest toothpaste and a whole wash rag to get that perfect shine. And aside from the much green he had on, he had a very cute smile and pinch-able cheeks. They looked soft and fat like a baby's bottom.

Sam looked very disapproving of him. Why wouldn't he be? He's just another one of those high school air heads. "Beat it, little old man!" he called, throwing an orange peel at his shirt. It didn't put much stain on there, but I knew that the boy was getting upset by that action.

"Learn some English!" Jake called, putting a straw in his mouth and shooting a spit ball at Rory's face. Out of nowhere, the guys had been calling to him, treating him terribly. Almost panicking, the boy just left out of the lunch room with his food in his hands. Maybe he was going to head out to the courtyard or something. Who knows?

I could've said something. I really could have. But the popularity food chain at this school is really…well, strict. Once you make a compliment about a loser or a new kid that no one likes, that officially makes you a loser. I don't get why it should be that way. The glee club at this school is full of so-called _losers_ – I happen to be one of them – and it's full of former jocks, two cheerleaders, and…well, there's the richest girl in the school (that's me, if you didn't know).

I had my head turned for a minute to change the song on my IPod to _The Fear_ by Lily Allen, and turned back to see that the boy had ran to the door to leave. That's when I just felt bad for him immediately.

For a small Irish boy, though, he ran like an American Olympic champion. Impressive, no?

* * *

As usual, the school day was incredibly boring. I had at least two substitute teachers from two different classes after lunch, and I just slept in those without a care in the world. Heck, I even popped my ear buds back in my ears to listen to _The Climb_ by Miley Cyrus, and I didn't even realize that my IPod was playing while I slept and the fact that it was on low battery. So for the last two periods of class, I was forced to actually do work in class.

Actually, I didn't do that, either. I spent my time working in my notebook on a picture I randomly drew. But whatever.

I contacted my mother and told her that I had to stay afterschool for something. What she didn't know was that I was actually going to find that Irish boy from earlier. I overheard a conversation he had with his mother over his cell phone, and he needed some time alone. I figured I would go see where he went. I mean, he's really not that hard to miss if you're not color blind. I'm just sayin'. Plus, he was probably lonely or something.

I had retrieved my books from my locker. Those God-awful books were heavy. The Geometry book was the heaviest. I have no idea how many pages there are, but they're a real pain in my ass. That book alone could break your hand; but add that to the History and Chemistry books we have, and you could break your back. You know, if all of our homework was given to us in worksheets or over email, it would be so much easier. Oh no, though. They actually want you to take the whole book. How unhealthy of you, public schools.

I put my overly heavy books in a pink bag that I brought with me in case I had to carry a large load of stuff (which I did), and walked down the hall. God, my left arm hurt quickly. It's like going outside on a sunny day, and already sweating for ten seconds without even doing anything. That happened one July, and I could never go outside in heat waves again.

I walked past the boys' bathroom, which always smelled like urine and whatever waste dirty little boys stored in there, and I could've sworn I heard someone crying inside. It was deep and echoed, so I couldn't identify the person quickly. I wasn't sure if I should check on them or not. And not that many boys would be heard crying in the bathroom anyway (that was literally girls' job – sorry, Aspergers).

But I actually did it. I placed my books and stuff on the floor and walked back to the men's bathroom door. I leaned my head close to it, and listened in on the sobbing. It sounded like the little Irish boy from earlier. After that moment when I first heard him speak, I could easily identify him from the rest of the people in this school.

I opened the door just a crack – what the heck; it smelled so foul in there – and I called to the person inside. "Hello? Is there a damsel in distress?" I just had to; I mean, from what I hear, the phony and dependent boys cry like little girls sometimes. Not that I intend on being rude; this damn Aspergers always gets me.

The boy didn't respond. I could hear heavy breathing inside. I think he was startled by me calling, and stopped crying and…well, whatever he was doing. He wasn't coming towards the door for the next ten seconds. Did he have laryngitis or something? Did he lose his breath? How was I supposed to know? I was standing outside of the boys' bathroom, listening onto a foreign exchange student cry his feelings out.

I hesitated to do this at first because of the boys' bathroom smelling like 2-week old pee and something that came out of an old pipe; but I searched around me to see if the coast was clear, and I went on inside the room. It was the same color on the inside as the girls' bathroom, at least. I looked around the corner, but I didn't see anyone. That would mean that I would have to check the stalls. Gross.

I peeked underneath the stall doors, but didn't see any feet. Good thing no other boys were in the bathroom to see me waltzing in here out of nowhere. It was when I made it to the last stall that I saw a pair of small, white shoes and dark pants legs that I tensed up a bit. He probably would look at me crazy or something and think that I wasn't allowed in the boys' bathroom (which is pretty much true).

I pushed the door a bit to see if it was open. To my surprise, the boy on the other end slammed the door closed in my face, and secured the lock on it. Well, if he was puking or having some type of massive diarrhea, then of course, I wouldn't wanna see what was going on in there. But he was crying, and he didn't sound sick.

"Hello?" I called again, wondering if he would ever speak to me.

"Go away!"

That was the only thing he said. It sounded pretty low and depressing. I heard sniffles on the other side of the door, too. He was probably homesick or something. I totally understood that. I mean, going to Minnesota for summer camp for three months without your parents, cozy bed, and your trusty electronics is a real downer.

I leaned closer to the door to see if he wasn't out in space somewhere. "I just want to talk," I spoke nervously. Okay, something was seriously going on. "Maybe even…" I bit my lip for a second. Whoever knew that I would be nervous to talk to someone? I'm never nervous when I'm talking to people like Joe, who is in a few of my classes this year (especially when Sam isn't around to talk trash about him on some occasions). "…maybe even, you know…be your friend…" Those were the last few words I said, and I felt something in my chest for a brief second. Something almost…overwhelming, if you ask me.

When I didn't hear anything on the other side of the door, I felt like giving up for some apparent reason. How is it that when I try to be friends with people, it ends up being a waiting game for me? I'm probably one of the most friendliest people in this joint. I can give a thousand dollars to raise money for vending machines. Come on.

At that moment, I heard the latch on the door click. I stepped back, startled for a second because I didn't think he would come out that quickly. When he did, I looked up at his face. It was wetter than Niagara Falls. And his eyes were tomato red. How long had he been in here crying by himself?

I was a little timid because I was worried for him, and having the assumption that those guys from earlier were doing too much to upset him. Maybe they were. I wasn't sure, though. "Did…did something happen?" I asked with a couple of stutters. "See a romance drama or anything?" I wanted to keep the humor up a bit, but it didn't seem like it was helping. He had that pool of tears dripping down his little baby face.

I only looked down at my shoes for a second because I wasn't sure on what else to say, and then I saw traces of blood dripping down. I followed the path from where it came from, and then I saw some cuts on the Irish boy's wrist. This was suicide? I didn't know.

"W-wait! Why are you cutting yourself?" I asked in so much panic. I saw a blade in his right hand and snatched it from him. He had only been here for five days, and he chooses to commit suicide? Was it those dimwitted football jocks again? Those jerks.

He shook his head at me in defeat. "I just can't take it anymore," he told me. He voice sounded so hoarse, and he couldn't look me directly in the eye. "I've been humiliated today, pretty much." He stuck the not-so-bloody hand in his pocket. The tears seemed to dry a bit, and that was a good sign. However, he didn't look okay at all.

"What happened? Who was messing with you?" I asked anxiously.

He didn't answer right away; so I assumed that it had been getting very serious before this point in the day. He looked at me with those red blood-hound eyes and that upside-down smile. "Every football player, pretty much. And occasionally, the hockey and basketball players do so as well. I apparently don't know why, but it obviously has to do with me."

I just looked at him. I almost had no words. You know how in those black and white films where no one talks, but it's just facial expressions? Well, it's that – in my head, at least. "I don't really see why, either."

He looked at me with his eyebrow inched up on his head. "Really?" he asked me.

"Well, yeah," I replied. "You're just different from everyone else. It's not really that big a deal, right? Everyone is different."

He sighed for a moment. "I know, but I'm…well, more _different_ from everyone else than anyone can ever be." I frowned in confusion because I obviously didn't know what the hell he was talking about. "And I try to fit in with people at this school, showing them how much I want to be their friend, and…"

And what? He just paused himself. I couldn't figure out what he was trying to say. "And?" I asked, waiting for more of the answer.

"I just feel like I don't have a place here." He looked down again. The blood was about to dry on his wrist, and already there was a small puddle of blood on the floor. It was like I was living in some horror movie, like _The Devil Inside_ or _Sinister_. But those kinds of horror movies had people possessed by the devil, and this guy was nowhere near that. He was more sane and adorable to watch.

I couldn't stay in here any longer, I knew that much. It felt so awkward to stand in the boys' bathroom and talk to this guy about jocks bullying him throughout the school day. And my stuff was outside, too. Someone could easily snatch it, and I would have to hear a long lecture from my dad when I get home. I headed to the paper towels and grabbed about three sheets, placing them in some water and ringing them out. "Give me your wrist."

He was shy to do it at first, but he came along easier than I expected. I noticed that he tensed up a bit once the cold water hit his scar on his left wrist. One time I scratched the bottom of my foot with some glass, and the cold water helped it a lot. I hoped it helped for him. Actually, it sort of did. The blood was going away, and the scar seemed to heal just a bit.

"I want to hang around with you for a bit," I told him, grabbing some more paper towels to dry his wrist off with.

"Why? Don't you have better things to tend to?" He must wanted to be alone so he could do worse damage than he already had done. I won't let him, though. I can't let an adorable Irish kid die young.

"Well, yes." I said, drying his wrist off. "I have to get to know and help a friend in need who obviously needs my help." I looked at him with a very bright smile, which seemed to be my specialty in my glamorous looks (I don't mean to brag, but my mother always told me that).

The foreign exchange student grinned halfway. "I'm guessing that's me now, eh?"

I winked, which made his smile grow a bit more. "Duh, of course."

Unexpectedly, we turned towards the boys' bathroom door. A male janitor had come to clean out some of the bathrooms and dust for a bit when he noticed me standing there and tending to Rory's injured wrist. He just had the most confused look on his face, and I knew I had to get out of there fast.

I walked hand in hand with the Irish guy and whispered, "Maybe we shouldn't do this here."

* * *

We had taken our stuff and gone to my place. I asked my parents if it was okay him being here since he needed my help. They told me that I could, and we contacted the boy's parents before heading up to my room. I'm not sure if my room was too colorful or not, but he seemed to like it. I had so many bright colors like pink, orange, baby blue, and yellow. Some people occasionally told me that my room was fruity, but I could care less.

I allowed him to lay on my bed. He didn't say anything, really. He was just staring at the ceiling, looking so dead. It was almost creepy. I imagined him full of life and stuff; but ever since those jackasses had been messing with him, he's been putting himself down. I wasn't sure if he minded at all, but I turned on my laptop and started putting _Say_ by John Mayer on repeat. I wasn't sure what kind of music he was into; so I just randomly chose something. I mean, anything with R&B or pop wouldn't be the best song for this type of situation, unless you were at a high school party, or you were "in the mood" or whatever people talked about these days.

I didn't want to take away any possible space he had on my bed. So I grabbed the soft, pink cushion seat to sit on, and I laid my chin on the edge of my bed to study him. He seemed to be deep in thought. I've always wondered what people thought, you know? Usually the boys from America think about race cars, hot girls, and being rich or in the NBA. What did this guy think about?

"So…you wanna talk about books?" That was probably the stupidest and most random question I've ever asked. But he never said anything since we talked in the school bathroom. I just wanted to start up a conversation.

He just shrugged at me. "Books are okay." That silence again. He probably wasn't up for talking. I knew that after seeing him depressed about a few minutes ago.

I waited on him to say something. Maybe he was waiting on me to say something. How was I so sure, though? "Look, I know you're still…uncomfortable after what you almost did and stuff. I know I was; I literally had to walk into a boys' bathroom for the first time. And you almost –"

He shrugged again, his eyes still on the ceiling. "Yeah, I know." Of course he didn't want to say anything more about it. This makes me wonder if his parents will ever find out about this.

I ran out of things to say for a moment. It got quiet for another few seconds. Then, I came up with the simplest idea I've ever had. It sounded cliché, but I was certain it would work. "You know how people daydream and stuff?" I asked. At first I thought he would be still and silent again, but he nodded understandably. "And you know how people have their own personal happy place?"

He nodded. "Of course."

I shrugged for a moment, figuring out the obvious. "Well, we could do that, you know?" I told him. "Dream of that one happy place you have to get away from all of your problems."

I was a bit tense when he turned his head towards me with almost approving eyes. "You think so?"

I shrugged again. "Of course. I mean, the world we live in right now is pretty much like a waste dump of some sorts, but there are always happy places we can escape to, right? Like how Toys R Us is an escape place for little children, or how the bar is an escape place for lonely old men." He looked confused after I said that, but he hasn't been in America for that long, so what would he know anyway?

I looked around, trying to think of my happy place. I had so many, though. It was so hard to choose between the library, the bank, the mall, and the cupcake shop downtown where I bought some delicious pastries for my birthday once. After that day, I pretty much went there all of the time. The best I could do as an example was randomly pick something. "My escape place would probably be…Miami, Florida," I told him. I had only gone there once, but it was extraordinary. "I had gone for family vacation, and the sun and water had helped me cheer up when all of the fun was drained out of me."

The boy on the bed nodded for a second and then looked confused again. What else was there to be confused about? "Wait, where's Miami again? The edge of Florida, or…?"

Okay, he really doesn't know much about America.

"Somewhat, yeah," I told him so he would be reminded. He nodded understandably and looked back at the ceiling. I just looked him and waited. I know he had a happy place. I just had to figure out what it was. "So, what's yours? I know you have one. Everyone pretty much has one."

It took him about five seconds to get his thoughts together, but then he finally thought of something. "Would you mind if we closed our eyes first?"

I never really thought of that before. Closing your eyes was a good technique, though you would just end up falling asleep or something like that. But I followed along and shut my eyes closed. I could hear his thick accent as I saw nothing but pitch black in my eyes. "Now imagine you're walking out of a building. It can be your house, the school, a library – any place you want."

I nodded, though my vision probably wasn't as clear as his. "Okay." I continued to listen to him. As I did, I come to learn that his voice got dreamier by the second. I just couldn't get enough. It was like he was telling some type of bedtime story.

"When you first step outside," he told me with that dreamy voice, "it's bright and sunny. The grass is green, the sun is as yellow as sunflowers, and the air brushes swiftly against your face. It's summer bliss that just never goes away."

I smiled. How could I not? It's like he was born to be a storyteller. Not those creepy, old men that sit in the comfy chairs by the fire with a random book to read to everyone; this guy was different than that. He sounded so magical; it was crazy.

I felt myself getting a little sleepy. The school day pretty much bored the heck out of me. I faintly heard the music on my laptop as I started to drift off to sleep. Wait – I left that thing on? I was so busy tending to the Irish boy; I didn't even notice. Well, it was a little low, so that kind of explains it. Maybe my parents will come in and turn it off or something. They did that when I left my radio on for hours on end.

I noticed that when I tried listening to the boy speak, his voice became audible to me. Did I lose my hearing? Oh well. I pretty much fell in a deep sleep after that. I totally needed it after the school day I've had.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Well, there's the first part of the fic. I know people ship Sugar with Artie, but I miss how adorable these two were. And I've been seeing a few stories about Rory and suicide. Well…here was my version of how it turned out. Oh and BTW, the story is kinda different than Glee, for Jake and Ryder appear when Rory first transfer. Yeah, it's fan fiction. I run things my way.

Part two will come soon. I hope you enjoyed it!


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note**: This is pretty much a fail on my part since I didn't finish this before St. Patty's Day. I have a lot of work to do in my own time, and it's really becoming frustrating. Oh, and for those who are wondering if I'll update on my Quoe fic, the answer is yes. I just don't know when I will do it. Maybe during spring break or something (I would say in the summer when my time is more free; but I feel like I've been keeping y'all waiting long enough).

Anyways, here's the second part to What People Don't See, and I hope you guys enjoyed it.

* * *

| | _**What People Don't See**_ | |

I wasn't really sure how long I was asleep for. It was a good sleep, though. It could've been better if this prickly yet soft things didn't poke my skin. It felt like getting stabbed with a pile of notebook edges people tear out of those spiral notebooks. I know my room isn't _that_ messy. Wait – where am I?

I started to grip at the prickly stuff with my fingers. It was soft, and had some type of fresh smell to it. I was lying in grass, duh. Some of the grass blades tickled my ankles, but it was so soft to lay in. Actually, this grass was ten times fresher and softer than the grass in my parents' yard. I hope I wasn't lying in my mother's flowers; she would've killed me if I did that.

At that moment, my eyes flickered open. I definitely was not at home. If that were the case, I would see the big apple tree in our backyard that we pick apples from to bake my mother's famous apple pies. And I didn't see anything other than nature's wonders around me, let alone my own house. It did smell just as good out here as it did back home – or was that just me?

"Sugar," a voice called to me in my head. Well, I can't really tell if this is something in my head or someone's actually talking to me. It sounded like the same Irish boy I met at school and offered to stay at my house. Does he even know where we are? Probably not.

"Sugar, wake up." He called to me again. This time, I looked up to see someone standing over me. At first the most I could see was just their silhouette; but then my vision cleared a bit. The boy was wearing different clothes than what I saw earlier. They looked…almost formal, I guess. That white shirt tucked into the green blazer he had on was not flattering at all, though. And that hat on his head was okay, I guess. Green again, but it fit him nice.

I had to squint a bit and cover the sunlight that was getting in my eyes. My God, it was a really sunny day. It's never this sunny in March, is it?

"You…" That was the only word I could get out of my mouth. I was just too tired to say much more at the moment, and I was so confused at what was going on.

"You're finally here," he told me with the most charming grin in the world. He extended his hand out to me, and I accepted the help. My back was totally aching, and I got a little bit dizzy when I stood up. I was too young to smoke or anything like that – actually, smoking shouldn't even be allowed – so I can't be on anything. So…what the heck just happened?

I squinted my eyes again as I looked around at the scenery. Warm, soft grass on the ground around us. Trees that were high and healthy. Flowers that had full, beautiful petals on them. I don't usually see this much where I live. This was actually a pretty decent place.

"Can I just ask where we are?" I told the Irish boy before me. I liked this place still, but I found it confusing why I'm here.

The boy grinned at me. "This is my escape place," he told me with much glee. "I invited you into my world." Okay, that was…completely awkward. He then grabbed my hand and guided me towards the left. "I always come here to relax, think of positive things…and to pick fresh berries."

"Fresh berries?" Now I suddenly got excited being that I just woke up and got extremely hungry.

"I can take you there, if you wish." He extended his free hand in front of him, and I looked ahead. All I saw were rows and rows of bushes. They had pink, red, and blue berries on them. They seem pretty ripe and ready to pick. My stomach was grumbling so much. I had to get a bite. So I allowed the Irish boy to lead me to the berry patch.

He bent down to pick up two baskets that were sitting by a bush, and offered me one. This was something different for me, even though I was excited to spend time with the boy at the same time. He guided me over to the first row where he had found a big bunch of berries hanging on a bush. He picked a few and placed them in my basket, which seemed to be the most generous thing he has done for me so far. I grabbed a couple of juicy red ones from another bush and placed them in my basket. Things went well so far.

Once that first row was done, we headed to the next one, which seemed to have more berries than the first. I swear, I couldn't hold out any longer. My tummy was grumbling, and these things were about to be gobbled down. I don't eat berries straight from the bush since they have to be washed first; but I would do anything to get the taste of hunger and sleep saliva out of my mouth.

Just when I was about to pick some ripe, blue berries from a big bush, a big pink berry hit the side of my face. Was the Irish boy actually throwing berries at me? I faced him, and he was giggling under his breath. A part of me thought that was rude and wasting food. Then again, I was having a good time so far with him, and the birds and nature's other critters can always have what's left over.

I took a red berry from my basket and threw it at his plump cheek. He started laughing, and then took a couple more berries from the bush to throw at me. I'll admit that I actually liked the berry war when it started. I took some more berries from another bush, and we just went back and forth. Before I knew it, he was chasing me through the field, with our baskets of berries left behind in the second row. I was laughing so much and having so much fun; I didn't want to stop.

"Hey!" That's when the both of us had stopped in our tracks. I was startled out of my own skin. I knew very well that the both of us got caught. Was this not the Irish boy's field? Did he bring me here so I could get in trouble? I've seen a couple of movies when people got caught in fields messing with other people's food. The owners either called the cops on them, or have the family dog chase them away. I certainly didn't want to be arrested. And I can't have dog bites or rabies, either.

The boy grabbed my forearm, and I looked into the direction he was looking. An angry, pale man had walked forth to us. He was pretty ticked off, if you ask me. He had the strongest clutched fists you'll ever see. And the scowl on his face made it worse. I wondered then and there what would happen if he sucker punched me out of his field. I would either end up with a broken jaw, or perhaps dead.

"What are y'all doing in my field?" he asked the both of us. We started to step back from him a bit, making sure we didn't step on any bushes of his. The Irish boy stuttered a bit, but no words came out.

"We're sorry, sir," I confessed with pleading eyes, grabbing onto the boy's arm and standing behind him. "We didn't know this was your garden."

The boy in front of me nodded. "We were just looking for something to eat," he explained. "We didn't know we were intruding."

I can tell that the both of us were scared, let alone the kind Irish boy that agreed to go on this little berry hunt with me. He probably hasn't been over here before nor knew anything of who this man was or where he lived. So he was just as worried about being here as I was.

Just when he was about to say something else – I assumed that he was going to say something about a great Dane or something – someone else had come out to the field area and noticed us. "What's going on out here?" I looked around the Irish boy to see what it was. It looked like some lady, or even the guy's housewife or something. I wouldn't expect her to look like that. Maybe have some blonde hair in a bun under a hat, but not like this. Her dress went to her knees, her hair was a dark brown, and her skin was as dark and smooth as milk chocolate.

The blonde man standing before us turned towards the woman behind him. "Call the cops, Unique," he explained. "We've got trespassers."

The woman didn't turn back right away; instead, she looked down at us. She looked a lot sweeter and calmer than the man did. I relaxed my shoulders a bit, hoping that I wouldn't be sent away by this woman. We meant well, of course. We're nothing like the average troublemakers I've been seeing back at home.

"What were y'all doing out here?" she asked the both of us.

Before the boy guarding me started to speak, the angry blonde man spoke up first. "They've been going at our berries." He started to get up from where he had squat in front of us. "This is the eighth time this week. You think they could be those damn Puckermans again?"

The woman was scratching her chin and shaking her head. "They look nothing like them," she told her spouse, taking a couple of steps towards us. The Irish boy almost stumbled a bit, and I held him in place so he wouldn't fall and crack his head open. "Who are you, young ones?"

The two of us looked at each other, and then back at the nice lady before us. The Irish boy timidly started to speak. "R-Rory Flanagan." I thought he had a really decent name to go with his perfect Irish accent and his style. It reminded me of a cute beagle I saw somewhere on TV when I was younger that I've always wanted to have. "This…this is –"

"Sugar Motta," I spoke up all of a sudden. Neither the cranky man nor his wife had said anything, so I extended my arm timidly and told them, "Nice to meet you both…" It didn't really clear up the man's frown, though. The lady, however, seemed flattered.

"Nice to meet you both, too," she greeted us, shaking my hand and Rory's. We weren't as scared as before, but the man was not clearing his scowl as much. God, he was going to have frown lines when he hit at least fifty or something. "I'm Unique Lynn-Adams," the lady spoke up again, "and this is my husband, Ryder." She leaned in on us and whispered, "don't mind him; he usually gets this cranky when the weather hits over eighty-five degrees and when his berries aren't perfection."

The man in question tossed his arms up in the air. "Okay, so know we know them. Take them out of my field, please. I have pies to make for the festival later on." He sounded uninterested in the both of us. Maybe he just didn't like kids. I've met those types of people before. They always complain about how they make big messes in the kitchen or on the house walls.

"Quit complaining," the woman, identified as Unique, told the man before turning back to us. "You two are welcome to stay with us. And maybe we can call up your parents and let them know where you are."

I had no idea on what my parents were doing right now, really. I'm not even sure if they're here in this place that Rory brought me. Probably not. It feels like I'm still asleep in this weird dream where everything is so…different. At least Rory is here. I mean, he knows about this place more than I do anyway. Maybe he can locate my parents for me.

Rory nodded in agreement, and grabbed my hand again, the both of us following Ms. Unique Adams and her husband into the house sitting far from the field. "We had picked some berries and put them in baskets already," Rory told the married couple. "They're in the second row if you still want them."

"Or," Unique spoke up, "we could wash them and give them to you to keep. We have plenty anyway, and you need something to share with your family when you two get back home." I actually liked Ms. Unique. She was a really sweet person. I wasn't really sure if Mr. Lynn-Adams was down with the idea. He was pretty peeved at us for stealing his food.

We made it into the house, finally. That was a pretty long walk from where we stood to the Lynn-Adams home. I took my flats off, making sure I didn't track any dirt into the house, and fell into a chair. My legs were killing me between the running around with Rory and walking from the field all the way to the house.

I was tired. I wanted to go home; but at the same time, I wanted to stay in this place Rory brought me to. It was just as interesting as his Irish accent. I wanted to explore some more. This was supposed to be Rory's escape place, right? Well, what else did he do here? Who else did he meet? Who were his parents? What did he think about?

I craned my head back and relaxed a bit. I overheard Unique and Rory talking in the living room about Rory's parents' home number and where they were located. I wondered what they would be like, especially. I would greet two adults that were either uptight like Mr. Lynn-Adams, or easy-going like Ms. Unique. I would find out sooner or later.

"Be there in twenty?" I heard Rory tell his parents over the other line. "Okay. Love you, Daddy." He hung up and skipped into the kitchen to meet up with me. I just couldn't get over how adorable this guy was. "Daddy and Papa are going to be at the festival waiting for us, and Mr. and Mrs. Lynn-Adams are going to take us there this afternoon."

I nodded, interested in what the festival would be like. But then my smile went into a frown…in confusion. He had a _daddy_ and a _papa_? Where was his mother then? Did she die or leave her husband? It can't be possible that the second father gave birth to him. It was impossible. Men couldn't give birth no way.

I started to ask him about his parents. "You…you have two dads?" I asked, still confused and wondering if I could get an answer to that question. However, Rory had left too soon to join Ms. Unique at the table. She had taken a freshly-baked pie out of the oven to cool off.

"I have some pie for you guys if you want," Unique explained to the both of us. Rory seemed more eager than I was. Probably because he had a lot of energy drinks or something. I wasn't sure. "We have two more pies about to be baked for the festival; so you two having a piece of one couldn't hurt, right?"

I stood up from my seat closest to the back door, and joined Rory at the table. I was still hungry, and pie sounded really great at the moment. It was when I sat down that I felt something lick my leg, and I got a bit jumpy and ticklish.

"Who is that?" I asked, looking underneath the table. The head of a beagle puppy had come up, and I started getting excited. I got out of the chair and knelt down to pet it.

"Trixie," Ms. Unique said. "She's a new puppy we had gotten three days ago. You're welcome to play with her." And I did. Trixie was a really adorable puppy. I've always wanted a beagle as a pet. They were so cute and had the smoothest fur in the world. They weren't as weird-looking as some dogs looked to me.

"Looks like someone found Trixie." I heard Mr. Lynn-Adams walk back in the kitchen, taking his hat off and setting it on the rack by the archway to the living room. I got a little nervous to look him directly in the eyes. The dog kept me busy for a while. She was so cute.

I had washed my hands by the time the pie had cooled off a bit, and Rory and I shared conversations about each other while we had some sweet berry pie. Turns out that Mr. Lynn-Ryder had been a prize champion for the past three years. He always mentioned some secret recipe or something (of course, he didn't tell me what it was) that made the pies taste the way they were. I had a big piece, and it was totes delicious. I wanted to get an extra few pieces to take home with me (mom and dad would totally love these). Ms. Unique was generous enough to pack up two more slices of pie for me, along with some berries in a reusable bowl.

"Thank you for the doggie bag, guys," I told Mr. and Mrs. Lynn-Adams. This time, that Ryder guy actually had a smile on his face. He had really shiny teeth. They literally blinded me by the time we got back into the sunlight. He brought Trixie out with him being that he knew how much I loved to play with her.

"We're going downtown for the festival, just to prepare for a couple of things, and then we'll come back to take the pies there," Ms. Unique told us. "I hope to see you guys there."

Rory had that adorable grin on his face, looking back at the black lady. "Thank you so much, ma'am." He was so intelligent. He was nothing like the other guys I've met in my life. I'm surprised that more people back at McKinley High don't like him as much as I do.

"Rory!" I heard someone call to him from a few steps away. I looked over as the man with a forest green blazer ran over to us. He was much taller than the both of us, and he was paler than Mr. Lynn-Adams was. In fact, he looked so much like someone who had graduated from McKinley last year. People always made fun of him because of his clothes and sexuality. Me, I never really paid that much attention. Here, he actually looks decent.

"Rory, here you are," the panicked man told him, clutching the Irish boy to his chest, hugging him tightly. "I thought we had lost you. Don't ever do that again."

I could tell right away that Rory felt suffocated, for he had pulled away from the taller gentleman. "It's okay, Daddy," he replied, smoothing out his blazer. "I wanted to show Sugar around, we got into a predicament, and then everything was settled. No worries."

The man claimed to be Rory's _daddy_ frowned a bit in confusion. "No worries? You've could've gone missing," he explained with much worry in his voice. It was when he remembered Rory saying my name that he went from worried to confused again. "And who is Sugar?"

Rory turned towards me and grabbed my arm again. I was a bit timid once again because this was another person I didn't know (but he looked familiar still). "Daddy, this is Sugar Motta, my best friend," he explained. I always perked up when Rory considered me as a best friend.

Rory's father extended his hand to me. "Hello there…Sugar Motta. I'm Rory's father, Mr. Hummel-Anderson."

I allowed him to shake my hand willingly. "Hello," I replied in response. "I liked spending time with your son today. He's a really nice guy." I know I was probably making Rory gush right about now. He wouldn't even look me directly in the eye once I replied to his father.

The flamboyant man cocked his eyebrow at Rory, impressed. "Is that so, young man?" he asked Rory, who was still blushing. Wow, these people were very charming. He looked from his bashful son back over to me, that same charming grin on his face. "My husband is starting up the festivities downtown. You guys going?"

I turned around and spotted Mr. Lynn-Adams's hand go up. "Gotta return here to pick up the pies, though."

"Oh, we'll get you back here in time, I'm sure." Mr. Hummel-Anderson replied with a sure grin.

"How?" I managed to ask. I never really thought about it, but how would they get Mr. Lynn-Adams back in time? Downtown was a pretty long distance from here, and I'm not really sure what the speed limit is on the roads or anything. Walking was definitely out of the question. I didn't even know where downtown was.

Rory turned towards me and whispered in my ear. "Do you wanna see something mind-blowing?" he asked me with a clever grin on his face. I wasn't sure what was going on now, really. Was he supposed to be a spy to kidnap me now? And what was his father doing? He swung his arms around, and green light came from the palm of his hands. He must be the flamboyant version of the Incredible Hulk.

Before I knew it, we were all surrounded in some green light stuff, followed by gold sparkles and a rainbow. I didn't know Rory's dad had super powers. Was he a superhero or something?

All of the light and sparkles went away, and I looked at the scenery around me. This was nothing like when I woke up in the soft grass earlier. This was…almost like home, but more lively. Buildings were just about everywhere, and people filled the sidewalks from where we stood. Green decorations were hung just about everywhere. I even saw people wearing something green. Green shirts, pants, skirts, shoes, hair pins – everything.

This is probably better than the St. Patrick's Day celebrations we have back at home. Look at this place. They even made the ponds and lakes green.

Rory turned to me with a sweet smile on his face. "So…what do you think?" he asked me, eagerly holding onto my hand.

Where do I even start? The decorations were amazing, there were a lot of people here, and I really wanted to do some of the festivities now that I'm here. Not to mention the little trick his father did just so he could bring us all here. "It's amazing. I love it." I wasn't sure how big my smile was, but it was so big that I felt my cheek bones hurting.

"You guys are welcome to play, if you want," Mr. Hummel-Anderson told us. Rory took my hand and literally dragged me to different locations of town.

I mean, they had everything. There were food, game, and activity stands with a bunch of people standing in line for them. They had a couple of shops where you could buy things, too. One of the cake stores I saw reminded me of the pastry shop back at home. I just had some berry pie moments ago, but I was itching to go in there and try one of the shamrock-shaped cookies.

"I'm having a good time with you, Sugar," I heard Rory say as we continued walking around town. I could tell. He couldn't stop smiling. This was the most I've seen him smile since I first saw him when those jocks at school were messing with him. At least here, he can be free from mean people. Now I see why he liked his escape place so much.

"I'm having a good time with you, too, Rory," I said, bittersweet. Just when I was about to say something else to him, I heard some a cappella voices coming from down the street. Every person around us ran to the edge of the sidewalk and started cheering. I don't know who was singing exactly; but I pretty well knew they were much better than me. Every time I sing, the birds would fly away from the trees. Poor guys.

"It's Papa," Rory told me, and he took my hand again to drag me closer to where the voices were coming from. I easily recognized the song, and whoever was singing it sounded pretty good.

As we were strolling through the sea of people, we had accidentally bumped into four people that were next to us. They were trying to get a glimpse of the person, too. I looked up at them. One of them was a wholesome teenage girl. She had a pretty decent style. Her skirt and sweater looked totes cute on her, and she had pretty, curly brown hair. Every time she smiled, she got a bit cheeky, which was pretty adorable if anyone asked me.

The guy next to her reminded me of that Jake guy from school. He had a bit of black hair on his head, and was a bit mixed in his skin somewhere. He was exceedingly muscular and hot; I just couldn't believe it. I mean, there were a lot of hot guys in McKinley. Somehow I couldn't manage to tap one of them myself because they think I'm too pompous. I would accept that. That doesn't stop me from having an attraction from them.

There was a shorter girl next to him, but I couldn't recognize her that easily. I think she went to McKinley. I wasn't sure. Still, she had the prettiest blonde hair I've ever seen. She reminded me of the cheerleaders back at school who would give those snarky looks to the lunch ladies. Regardless, she was literally the perfect girl. She didn't give me that annoyed look as if she stepped into a puddle of mud; she welcomed me with a smile on her face, which I reciprocated willingly.

Next to the blonde girl was a taller boy. He looked just like my friend Joe from school. He had the same skin complexion he did, and he had a lot of brown hair on his head put into the most perfect dreadlocks I've ever seen. He still had the same clothing style, but at least he wore the colors for the occasion. His smile was warm and welcoming. I noticed when he would look at the blonde girl next to him, she would sometimes blush. Were they actually an item?

"Sorry," the brunette girl spoke up. "We didn't mean to bump you like that." I liked the brunette's simple, pretty voice. It sounded just how I predicted it would be.

"Oh, no problem," I told her suddenly with a smile.

The dreadlocked boy wrapped his around around the blonde girl and extended his free out to me. "Would you guys want to follow us to see the floats? They're releasing them now." I couldn't pass up this opportunity, obviously. I took his hand, and we walked further down the sidewalk. Rory followed behind with the brunette and the biracial boy. I liked how whenever Rory and I would explore further into his escape place, we would meet new people along the way. I liked these people.

As we as a group ran along the sidewalk, someone started singing Keane's _Somewhere Only We Know_, and a crowd of people starting cheering. Whoever it was sounded so masculine and bold. I mean, they didn't have the best singing voice I ever heard; but they sounded wonderful still.

I noticed Rory wandering around looking for the voice. We were bumping into so many people, and our way was always being blocked by some tall person, or a parent with a kid on their shoulders. All of a sudden, Rory jerked me forward a bit and pointed to an especially green float in the street. "Papa!" he called over the people around us. I, along with our four new friends, ran after Rory to get a clear view.

Once we got in the clearing, I looked up at the float. There were a lot of glittery decorations in green, along with some balloons tied here and there. People dressed as leprechauns were swaying and doing the a cappella while a man high up on the float was singing the lyrics. He had a brown leather jacket on with a green polo and jeans. My God, his hair was really curly. That look just didn't fit him at all. He was looking at Rory and Mr. Hummel-Anderson, who was standing by a statue just steps away. He had tears in his eyes and was smiling joyfully. Rory's parents must be really happy for each other.

I felt someone grab my hand. Their hand was really small and soft. I looked down at I caught a six-year-old girl smiling at me. In a weird way, she kind of looked just like me. The only difference was the outfits she wore and the baby-fat smile spreading on her face. I watched as her mother picked her up and smiled at me. She was blonde, fit, and a very happy mother. I could tell. She had an adorable toddler.

Next to the toddler's mother was another woman. I thought she was either her best friend or a stranger at first, but then she kissed the blonde on the lips, and then started playing along with the little girl. I wouldn't expect her to be the mother of that child – well, actually the _father_ – being that they don't look much alike. The blonde girl must've gotten pregnant by a sperm donor or a close friend or something. Regardless, the three looked very adorable together.

I felt the dreadlocked boy and the brunette girl wrap their arms around me, inviting me to sway with them along to the music. The biracial boy and the pretty blonde kissed their respective partners on the cheeks, and then continued to watch the performance, which ended on a very awesome note. The music was wonderful, actually. It felt like Christmas in March. If there was snow here, along with red and silver decorations, that would totally be legit. Anyways, the man on the float sounded amazing, and the people here were wonderful, too. Rory really had a wonderful escape place, if I do say so myself.

In fact…where is Rory? He wasn't standing next to us anymore. Where did he go? "Rory?" I called for him, but he didn't answer. I assume that he got lost or something. "Rory!" I called again, but nothing.

I was going to call him again, but my vision was blurring up. Everything was turning into a pale white. Was I supposed to be dying or something? I stumbled a bit, but no one around me seemed to notice. Before I knew it, I fell backwards into the ground. God, that hurt so much. I tried waking myself up a little more, but I just couldn't. My eyes were getting heavy. I wasn't tired, though. What was going on?

* * *

The next thing I heard was the music playing on my IPod. That's when I suddenly woke up. I looked around before doing anything. I was back in my room. I was no longer in Rory's escape place; I was back in crappy old Lima, Ohio. Too good to be true.

I looked on my bed mattress, and noticed that the bed sheets were put on perfectly. No prints on it or anything. Had my mom come in to make the beds? And where did that Irish boy go? Telling by the night sky from the window, I think he had gone home. I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to him, or even ask for his phone number. Maybe I wanted to sit next to him at lunch.

I turned towards my night stand beside my bed, and there was a card sitting in front of my lamp. On the front in red letters, it said: _To Sugar Motta_. Immediately I scrambled up from where I had been sleeping and grabbed the note. I glanced at the front some more, admiring the little hand drawn four-leafed clover on the front, and flipped the card open to see the inside.

_I had gone back home for now. I didn't want to wake you up since you were so sound asleep. But I hope to see you in school again. You are a really appreciative friend. I'm glad I met you. Maybe I can bring a slice of berry pie, if you're interested. – Rory Flanagan_

I held the letter close to me and smiled. It was a relieved smile and a flattered smile as well. I guess I will see the little Irish guy after all.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Gosh, this was so late. Maybe next time, I shouldn't be so lazy to get on a holiday-themed fic. Oh well. Still, I hope you guys enjoyed it. And I'll be writing more soon. So stay tuned!


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